


divine but not devout

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Sifki Month, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: Deep in the forest, Sif seeks answers through a strange ritual.
Relationships: Loki/Sif (Marvel)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Sifki Month](https://sifkiweek2020.tumblr.com/post/613697900677038080/greeting-fellow-lokisif-shippers-given-that-many). Week Three's prompt of "Soulmates".  
> 

The moonlit forest was eerily quiet. No insects buzzing, no leaves rustling. Not even the gentle sound of the River Ilfing could be heard. Everything was still. Sif had never quite believed the stories and murmurs about this enchanted corner of the back-country, but there she was, winding her way through dense forest cover, focused on the quest before her. The hush pricked at her nerves, but she kept her gait steady, determined. She continued around the tall pines, comforted by the small noise her steps made. It was unnatural for any place to be so silent. Although the supernatural was exactly what she was seeking. 

She was reminded of a trip with her companions to some nearby woods, where they stalked a stag through the trees, silent as they could possibly be but that would be an absolute ruckus compared to her current search. The quiet felt awful, almost oppressive, and played tricks with her sense. She had a feeling that for once she was the prey, watched by unseen eyes.

The glow of the moon illuminated her path as she stepped into a small clearing. In the middle of the tall grass stood a small cottage, rather unremarkable from the outside aside from the slightly unsteady build. No light emanated from the windows but smoke rose from a lopsided chimney.

With a deep breath, Sif crossed the clearing and pushed the door open.

It was _not_ a simple house. Inside, the walls seemed to waver, flickering as if made from flames, but colored indigo, although even that seemed to be in flux. The room seemed to pulse in size, hoards of bunched herbs and glass vials covering the furniture. Sif noticed all of this only in her periphery, for the woman hunched in front of a bonfire at the center of the room dominated her attention. 

“ _Orð?_ ” The woman did not turn when she spoke but her voice was wrong. It burned in a way that Sif could not understand, as if her question was fire against her ears. It came not as a single voice either, but a chorus tied to one individual, out of sync and wavering. It left Sif disoriented and disturbed, forgetting the response she had so carefully memorized in preparation. 

“I...” she stumbled over her words. The witch turned, whirling so her black cloak’s hood slipped back, revealing a face that was both aged and young. Terrifying but alluring. All wrong. 

“ _ORÐ?_ ” The chorus surrounded Sif, pressing in on her eardrums. She reached instinctively towards her back to draw her glaive, but her hand was unmet. Her sword and shield were left safe in her quarters, far away. She closed her eyes against the aural assault, her mind returning to her as the room pulsed and bent around her. 

“ _Framför_ ,” her voice was clear and steady. 

At her word, the burning ceased. The woman waved Sif forward and led her to the other side of the fire. Once Sif was in place, the woman looked up again, eyes boring into Sif’s, but the shield-maiden did not respond. The witch simply nodded and gestured to a pedestal to Sif’s right, hidden from the door by the unceasing flames. Several knives lay upon it, sharp and gleaming in the dancing light. 

Thinking back to her research, she knew what came next. Sucking in a deep breath of smoky air, Sif grabbed the knife and without much more thought, sliced against the inside of her forearm, not deep enough to scar, but certainly enough to draw blood. Using the knife, she let exactly three drops fall from the blade’s tip into the flames. The woman’s eyes, now unusually bright, stared but Sif could not look away from the ritual to meet her gaze.

The fire crackled with every drop and upon the third, roared, blazing even high and flashing a familiar shade of green. Though she longed to step back, Sif fought the urge, allowing the flames to lick dangerously close to her face. 

Just as her research had said, the flames quickly receded and a single piece of parchment flew out of the flames and into her waiting palm. Returning the blade to the pedestal, Sif took care not to smear any blood from her arm and shakily flipped over the singed paper. 

_Loki Odinson_

When Sif finished reading the parchment for the fifth time, she finally looked up, finding herself in the moonlit meadow, with no memory of how she had gotten there. When she turned seeking further answers, the building was gone, the empty field buzzing with crickets.


	2. Chapter 2

Sif slipped into the library, picking her way down a rarely used aisle. It had been days since she returned home from the forest, and still she could think of little else and found herself returning, again, to the spellbooks for more information and trying her best to avoid notice.

“You smell of magic,” a smooth voice came from her left. “It’s clinging to you.” 

Sif froze and turned her head slowly to see Loki leaning against a bookshelf, a heavy tome open in his hands. The very person she was least eager to meet on her errand. _Dammit_ , she cursed internally. Loki, looking ever so nonchalant, skimmed the rest of his page before snapping the book shut and flicking his eyes up towards her. 

“Is that why you have been hiding away from everyone, slinking around the palace at odd hours?”

“I don’t _slink_ ,” she rebutted. How often had he seen her sneaking down these halls in search of answers?

“But you do not deny the seidr?” He straightened and turned, replacing the book to its shelf before stepping nearer. He wore dark clothing, the high collar of his shirt accentuating the pale column of his neck. She considered him for a moment, thinking of the slip of paper tucked safely under her leathers. Being a magic-wielder himself, perhaps he could offer some insight as long as she could keep her secret.

“I do not deny participating in sorcery, no.” 

“If it was a spell you needed, why did you not come to me?” Loki looked hurt for a moment, his brows pulling together and then raising. “I would have assisted you, if you had but asked it of me.”

“I required something I believe is outside your abilities, Loki.”

“Oh,” his eyes flashed with defeat. Usually she was impervious to such a look from the prince, knowing he rarely showed any emotion that he didn’t purposely wish to convey but she felt his ache sinking into her and softened. 

“I was seeking guidance on my path,” she sighed. “You’ve said yourself that prophecy is outside of your purview.” 

“Oh,” Loki brightened, hurt replaced with renewed curiosity. “Divination? Why do you keep coming here then, if you now know the answer to your future?”

Sif shrugged, wanting to avoid further questioning; she already felt as if she had said too much. She turned away from him then, walking towards the dusty books she had visited frequently lately. “Haven’t you always told me that I needed to read more. Less time sharpening my blades and more time sharpening my mind.”

Before she could take more than two steps, Loki’s hand darted out to grab her arm. A gasp of pain and something else left her lips, his cool touch against her sacrificial skin pricked strangely as she was pulled back to face him.

They stood frozen for a moment, Loki looking down at where his hand was still wrapped around her arm. Without moving his head, his eyes flicked up to meet hers, flashing with an emotion that Sif could not place, his voice low. 

“You’ve been to see the Völva.”

It was not a question, so she did not offer an answer, simply straightening her back in defiance.

“Sif, that was dangerous.”

“Luckily, I am not a coward,” she retorted.

“She is slippery,” he continued. “Your language must be precise or you’re just as likely to come home with a curse,” Loki scolded gently, but there was a worry and a kindness in his gaze. “May I?”

When Sif inclined her head in permission, his fingertips glided to her wrist and his other hand rose to her neck, resting against her pulse. A warmth flowed over her, gentle where the witch’s fire was hot. If the witch’s magic was indeed a curse this felt like a blessing.

Sif summoned all of her training in an attempt not to respond to his touch, trying her best to stay still as the magic searched her. Loki was her friend, although he frequently drove her mad, antagonizing her and pushing her to fury in her training. He had touched her many times before in the battle yard and even in amicable moments, but not like this. Not when she was carrying this rediction, unsure of its meaning. 

Lok’s face was absorbed in full concentration. He stood so close, her eyes traced the sharp lines of his jaw and the sweep of his cheekbone. Had he always been so lovely? Or was this some enchantment from the witch. One hand slid from her throat and down across her collar bone, pressing for just a moment over her fluttering heart. His cool eyes lifted to hers then and he gave the briefest hint of a smile, appeased with his findings. He removed the hand from her chest but his long fingers were still loose around the bones of her wrist.

“And what did you seek,” he asked, his voice soft and intimate. “What _orð_ , what word, did you offer for divining?

“ _Framför_ ,” Sif confided. “Enhancement.”

“Improvement,” Loki translated at the same time. He then hummed in wonder. “Oh, to know what a warrior mighty as yourself was advised. And are you pleased with your instruction, Lady?”

He always did that; praised her as a soldier while also recognizing her femininity. It was not a mockery, but felt to Sif as the prince upholding and reinforcing that she was something wholly unique. The sorcerer prince, perhaps he saw more, knew more, of her than she had ever considered. 

“I think I may be,” she admitted for the first time, even to herself. “But I must confess that I do not fully understand the message.” 

He nodded slowly and then pursed his lips together, considering. Releasing her wrist from his embrace, Loki rolled up his own left sleeve, displaying a pale pink line raised against his skin. Sif sucked in a breath at his matching wound, and met his eyes as they flicked up to meet hers. This time, it was her hand that wrapped around his arm, her thumb tracing the thin line. Loki shivered under her touch.

“When?” Sif asked. 

“The last full moon.” That was weeks ago. With her heart beating fast, she pressed on, a strange hope rising in her chest.

“And what path did you request the witch’s aid in foreseeing?”

“ _Vald_ ,” Loki’s lips twitched in a smug imitation of a smile.

“Power,” Sif breathed. Loki nodded once and then rolled his wrist so that he could wrap his hand against her forearm, mirroring her hold. 

“You can imagine my surprise when a certain shield-maiden's name landed in my palm.”

His gaze bore into hers, Sif’s breath caught when his words sunk in. “Why did you not tell me sooner?” she shook her head as her fluttering heart suddenly constricted. “Were you disappointed in your result?”

“I harbor many secrets, Lady,” Loki hedged. “And I was not unsatisfied, no. I simply wanted adequate time to investigate the full implications to the divination.”

“You do not know what it means?” 

"I believe I do,” he raised one shoulder, the leather of his clothing structured to make it appear broader. “Well enough, at least.”

“Is it binding?” she blurted, unable to stop herself.

“Hmm,” Loki tipped his head slightly to the side, considering her words. “I suppose it depends on how you view such a prophecy. Do you believe your future is your own to choose, or are you walking a path predetermined?”

“Every step I have moved forward to achieve my place in Asgard has been because I was determined to take it, not because of fate,” she felt a fiery certainty of this and Loki grinned in agreement. She took a breath then, pausing. Sif was rarely hesitant, yet she felt suddenly exposed, unsure of what her heart wished for the answer to be. “Does this make you my soulmate?”

“Are we now bound and compelled to love and serve each other?” Loki mused before shaking his head softly. “No, I do not believe such powerful seidr exists. This is simply a tool. Wisdom of self, knowledge that can be heeded or cast aside.”

His words washed over her like a wave, roiling and spinning her thoughts. She was grateful to be anchored to his hold, and felt his hand squeeze her softly. She matched the pressure of his touch. After a moment she nodded her understanding and released her grip, slowly withdrawing her hand. She was still free and self-governing, not bewitched nor subservient to another’s will.

“Are you soothed?” he asked, a wistful note in his voice. 

“I am,” she answered and knew it was true. “Thank you, Loki.”

She turned then, making her way towards the exit, no longer requiring a book for explanation. 

“Lady Sif,” Loki’s voice called out, halting her a few strides down the book lined aisle. When she turned, his long fingers picked at his sleeve, covering the scar. “Will you dine with me tonight?” He gave a slight bow and raised his hand towards her. “I find that I am loath to leave your company just yet.”

With a smile, she stepped forward and gladly took his offered hand. “I would like that,” she matched his growing smile. “There is still much I wish to explore with you.”

Sif did not believe in the surety of magic, but she did trust in the strength of her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's line in Ragnarok of "I can't see into the future; I'm not a witch" got me thinking that that would mean there are witches out these who _can_ see the future so ta-da!  
> A few words were translated into Icelandic and I'm sure I'm using them incorrectly but please ignore that, I'm doing it for the Norse aesthetic.


End file.
